


of penis ovens and bodily paints

by thesurielships



Series: Feysand One-shots [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesurielships/pseuds/thesurielships
Summary: Answer to a tumblr prompt: "can you grow your penis"
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Feysand One-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791676
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	of penis ovens and bodily paints

**Author's Note:**

> this is not nsfw lol

“Sir, I hate to rush you but there are customers waiting at the door. If you would please order…”

“I’m sorry for taking up this seat, madam. But as I have already told you, I am waiting for my date.”

She smiled. It was the fakest smile Rhys had ever seen. “Your… date,” he did not miss the meaningful pause, “is more than two hours late.”

His smile was just as forced when he said: “Then I am sure she’ll be here any moment now.”

The waitress sighed, and Rhysand felt a little guilty. She was only doing her job, and he knew how hard it was to deal with customers. However, he would have preferred a night of dealing with rude customers to his current predicament.

His blind date hadn’t shown up.

Rhysand Highlord Night had been stood up.

He stared at the chandelier hanging over his head and chuckled dryly. The most romantic restaurant he’d ever been to, and that’s where he got stood up. It was ironic, really. The only reason he’d even agreed to this cursed date was because it was his family’s not-so-subtle attempt to help him _“get some”._

“Dip your wick,” Mor had told him with a wink as he’d left their house earlier.

“Drop your anchor,” Cassian had added with a shit-eating grin, slapping him on the back.

He supposed he only had himself to blame for following their plans. Mor’s friend was probably as gay as her, anyway.

“Rhys? Is that you?”

It took him a few tries to blink away the light stinging his eyes. Then a few more to believe the apparition before him was not just a figment of his desperate, lonely imagination. “Feyre?”

“Thank the Cauldron,” she said with a relieved smile. “I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Not recognize the girl who painted my hair blue?”

She rolled her eyes. “I see now that I shouldn’t have worried.”

He laughed, pleased at the unexpected direction his evening had taken. He gestured to the seat across from him. “Feyre of the Fey, would you care to join me?”

She shook her head in amusement. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“On what?”

“I overheard you with the waitress. Aren’t you on a date?”

He averted his gaze towards the orchestra on the other side of the room. “I’m here alone.”

He could see her frown from the corner of his eye.

“Rhysand of the Night Court,” she enunciated slowly. “Are you telling me you just got stood up?”

He finally met her eyes. “She didn’t want to date a High Lord. Too demanding, she said.”

“Ah,” Feyre said, smile growing as she sat. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“But I blame _you_ for this title.”

She raised her hands in defense. “It wasn’t my fault. The universe had spoken. I was merely the vessel.”

They stared at each other, lips twitching, before collapsing into laughter.

“How do you come up with this stuff?”

“Honestly? No idea. Something about you just… sets my imagination on fire.”

His smile turned suggestive and she rolled her eyes, though he didn’t fail to notice the blush that stained her cheeks the loveliest shade of pink.

“Arrogant prick.”

“Feyre darling, I must say your imagination hasn’t improved much since our middle school days.”

She smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

The waitress appeared then. “I see your date has arrived, sir.”

Maybe it was meeting someone from his preteen days, maybe it was the absence of fucks he had left after an embarrassing evening, but Rhysand desperately wanted to say “ _told you so_ ”.

Feyre didn’t miss a beat. “So sorry, madam. I got held up. Rhysand darling went through all this trouble for our 55th day anniversary, and I wanted to do something special from him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I got a Brazilian wax. He just loves licking chocolate off me and Cauldron knows there is nothing worse than chocolate flavored - ”

“YES, MADAM,’ the red faced waitress positively yelled. “I will get your menus now,” she finished in a quieter, all be it strangled voice, looking anywhere but them.

Rhys lifted one eyebrow. “I take it back. Your imagination has evolved wonderfully.”

“An adult imagination to suit my adult needs,” she quipped back, eyes dancing. Was she… flirting?

“It doesn’t have to be imaginary, darling. I’m an adult too, and I can meet all your adult needs.”

Her pupils flared at the seductive tone he’d used and he was hooked.

“So,” her voice was husky, “Rhysand.” She drew out the _sand_ , and he knew she hadn’t used his favored nickname on purpose. “There is a question I’ve wanted to ask you all these years.”

He looked at her expectantly, his heart giving a little twinge as she leaned a bit closer, her blue eyes catching the light of the chandelier hanging above them. This was starting to feel too much like a date, and his heart was behaving accordingly. A date with Feyre… many sleepless nights had gone on planning that fantastical event. He’d always imagined it was like hanging out with Santa, or world peace. Easy to imagine, almost impossible to accomplish.

The waitress was once again at their side, further delaying Feyre’s fateful question. She put a glass of champagne in front of both of them, quietly muttering _on the house_ , before rushing away from them.

Feyre’s eyes hadn’t left Rhysand’s.

“Can you grow your penis?”

Rhys was glad they hadn’t ordered their food yet. He was sure he would have choked on his dinner and/or spit it at her otherwise. “Excuse me?”

Feyre laughed. It sounded better than the music played by the orchestra. “I suppose that’s a no?”

He just looked at her, too dumbfounded to answer. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. So he decided to indulge in her beauty. He drank in her rosy cheeks, her crinkled eyes, how her drink swirled in the glass she held loosely in her hand as she shook with laughter.

She finally quieted down, though her smile was bright. She put down her champagne and wiped her tears with a napkin. “Don’t you remember?”

Rhysand only shook his head, smiling, too.

“Do you remember the day it was snowing, and we begged our PE teacher to let us play hide-and-seek?”

“Oh yes, I remember hiding in the janitor’s closet.”

Feyre nodded excitedly. “Yes! And I hid in the abandoned rooftop, even though we weren’t even supposed to leave the gym. Because it was snowing, school ended early; but since no one found us, we didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I remember that. The janitor’s closet was dark, and the hallway was so quiet. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.”

She blinked in surprise. “Really? You told me you had been meditating!”

“I wasn’t about to tell the most beautiful girl in school that I had yelped when a broom fell on my head, was I?”

“You - ” Feyre stopped mid-sentence, realising what he’d said. “You thought I was the most beautiful girl in school?”

Rhysand kept his face blank. “It was a widely agreed upon opinion.”

Feyre shook her head. “No, it really wasn’t.”

Rhysand felt himself flush. He was willing to do anything to change the subject. So he asked a question he never thought he would.

“So, what were you saying about my penis?”

Feyre stared at him a moment longer, before looking away with a small smile. She cleared her throat and leaned her head against her hand as she said, “When the bell didn’t ring at 6 o’clock, I went to class. Only your bag was left. I figured I’d search for you. I thought you’d be in the old bathroom by the staircase, for some reason. It was just my luck that you stumbled out of the janitor’s closet as I passed it.”

Rhysand laughed under his breath. “Sure. It was luck.”

“What?”

“I remember how the night went from there. We found out that we got locked in and our cells had no reception. We had to stay there until someone noticed our absence. We played twenty questions, and I discovered that you had a star shaped birthmark beneath your collarbone that you always tried to hide. That you didn’t like meat in general but would kill for a hot dog. That you wanted your first kiss to be on the winter solstice, the day you were born.”

Feyre gaped at him. “You remember all of that?”

“And more. I’m just keeping it for future blackmail,” he said in an attempt to hide the obvious crush he’d had on her.

“And somehow you forgot about the penis thing.”

A shrug. “I have a selective memory.”

“Well, I asked you what superpower you would like to have. It was my first question after _what’s your favorite color_ , and I figured it was a nice way to ease into the game. I expected flying or fire bending or some other common answer, but instead I got –” she trailed off as she started laughing again.

Rhysand was beginning to guess how the story ended.

“You said: _I wish I could grow my penis. You know, like in Back to the Future 2 when they put a small pizza in the microwave, and it came out triple-sized? Something like that, but for dicks_.”

Rhysand was sure he was blushing. How stupid he had been.

“In the years after that, I always looked at the newspapers and wondered, _did Rhysand revolutionize the world yet_?”

He could only stare.

“Sometimes, when I got drunk and started feeling sorry for myself, I remembered you and thought: at least my dick is not so small that I need a triple-sizing dick microwave.”

Rhysand was torn between reveling in her laughter and wanting the earth to swallow him whole.

“Well, that’s rich, coming from the girl who wanted her body to secrete paint instead of the physiological fluids.”

Feyre’s smile melted off her face. “You remember that?”

“I told you.” He smirked. “I have a selective memory.”

“I feel like the chosen one,” she said sarcastically.

“Because you are, Feyre of the Fey.”

“The chosen one?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

“Of the Fey.”

She tapped her finger against her chin, contemplating. “I have no interest in being chosen by the Fey population. I would much rather have the attention of a High Lord.”

“Did you have a particular one in mind?” Rhys drawled.

Feyre’s eyes dropped to his lips. “I am open to suggestions.”

The waitress chose that exact moment again to reappear. “I am sorry to interrupt your 55th day anniversary… moment… of the year. But you haven’t ordered yet.”

“I want triple-sized meat,” Feyre declared with a salacious smile.

“I want my chocolate treat,” Rhys said with an even dirtier grin. “But lasagna bolognese will do for now.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Guys, you do know this is a vegan restaurant, right?”

Feyre stood up, and only then did Rhys notice that she was wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her in all the right places. His eyes took the long way to her face.

The hunger he found there made him stand up as well.

Feyre’s smirk told him she knew where his eyes, and mind, had been. “I think I’ll go have my meat elsewhere.”

“And my chocolate.”

Rhys bowed as he extended a hand to Feyre. Feyre ran her fingers over his forearm before placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. They strode to the doors, ignoring the waitress’s shocked little squeaks.

“Time to put that penis of yours in its rightful oven,” Feyre whispered in his ear.

Really, this was turning out to be one of the best evenings Rhys had ever had.


End file.
